


When one of you wants to hate Christine and one of you wants to love her

by barlowbarlow



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Angst, Crushes, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Happy Ending, I love her, Pining, Underage Drinking, Vomiting, Well they do - Freeform, boyf riends - Freeform, but Jeremy and Jake don't, but not romantically, idk - Freeform, poor christine, richjake
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-04
Updated: 2018-10-15
Packaged: 2019-05-01 22:45:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14530947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/barlowbarlow/pseuds/barlowbarlow
Summary: Michael and Rich both wish they could hate Christine- it would make the jealousy so much easier. Jake and Jeremy wish they could love Christine- but it would make the truth that much harder.(aka this is a Richjake and Boyf Riends fic but Christine is involved)





	1. Rich wished he could hate Christine.

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger Warning: Vomiting

Rich wished he could hate Christine. He really did. The thing is, hating her was impossible. Even the most cynical of people liked Christine. She was bubbly and kind, and her happiness was infectious. She was passionate about the things she loved and always ready hear what anyone had to say.

So even when Jake started dating her, Rich couldn't hate her, as much as he wanted to. Even after spending loads of time with her, he wasn't tired of her. They had a lot more in common than they expected.

That didn't stop him from being jealous, though. Jealous of the way Jake draped his letterman jacket around her shoulders. Jealous of the way Jake grinned at her like an idiot during class. Jealous of the way he showed her off when they went out. Jealous of the way he kissed her.

Right now, though, he was jealous in a different way. It was a bitter way that made him feel sick to his stomach. Or maybe that was the alcohol. Probably both.

He was at some huge "end of the school year" party that Dustin Kroft had invited practically the whole town to. Of course, there were coolers upon coolers of different types alcohol, and everyone was just about drunk off their asses. Rich was actually pretty sober compared to the rest of the house. That didn't make it any better, though, when he watched Jake and Christine sneak upstairs together, giggling and kissing the whole way. They were each holding a beer, god knows how many they'd had already, and Jake had hickeys up and down his neck. Rich could only watch helplessly as they slipped into Dustin's older sister's room, cursing everyone and everything in his mind, but most of all cursing himself.

Now he sat alone on a beer-stained sofa. Well, not alone, there was a couple making out ferociously next him, but they hadn't acknowledged his presence so he wouldn't acknowledge theirs.

Rich took another swig of beer out of the red solo cup in his hand and wrinkled his nose at the taste. He hated beer, he only drank it because he knew couldn't survive the rest of this party sober.

Someone threw up across the room where everyone was dancing. He grimaced. That was the last straw. Rich stood up, brushing off his shorts, grabbing his phone, his beer, and heading up the stairs. He rolled his eyes as the girls that had been making out beside him on the sofa were suddenly taking up the whole thing. He almost mumbled 'get a room', but he was too fucking tired. He stumbled up the carpeted stairs, beer sloshing out of his cup and seeping into Dustin's carpet. (He didn't realize how drunk he was until he tripped up the last two steps.) He slid down the wall by a door, sprawling his legs out lazily in front of him.

He sat back and shut his eyes briefly, sighing and letting his mind roam. He thought about Christine again. How did she do it? That twink Jeremy was head over heels for her as well, so much so that he couldn't see that his own best friend was crushing on him. It was so obvious, Rich almost let out a snort of laughter just thinking about it. He wondered if _he_ was that obvious. He ran a hand through his hair as he let his mind wander to Jake. It was probably a mistake, but drunk Rich didn't care about mistakes. (To be fair, neither did sober Rich.)

Jesus Christ. Jake was such a perfect guy- tall, muscular, athletic and a good actor. The only thing he wasn't great at was math and reading, but neither was Rich, so he didn't really give a shit. Honestly, Jake could've been bad at everything he tried and Rich still would've fallen for him. His charm was unforgettable. It had crept up on Rich slowly over the past few years, and then suddenly one day it hit him like a ton of bricks.

They'd been sitting in Jake's room after school one day, each of them with a beer in hand. Again, Rich didn't even like beer. He drank it because Jake said he liked it, and he wanted Jake to like him. He had always really wanted Jake to like him. Jake set down his beer and grabbed his guitar from its stand by his bed, tuning it quickly before glancing at Rich for a moment with a flicker of a nervous smile on his face. Jake was usually so relaxed about everything, so this caught Rich's attention and made his stomach feel a little funny. He sat up in his chair, resting his chin in his hand as he watched Jake with interest. He'd heard him play a few times, but not since middle school.

Jake started to strum quietly, his hands moving over the strings with familiarity and ease. The music was soft and nice, and Rich cocked his head to the side and shut his eyes as he listened. The chords repeated a few more times, and then Jake began to sing.

Rich's eyes snapped open.

_Ohhh man. Oh my god. Fuck._

His brain simply short-circuited. Jake’s voice was so many things- warm and kind of deep, effortless, but mostly just... amazing. Hard to describe. Nothing like he'd heard before. He didn't recognize the song, but it was a very 'Jake' song. Something loving and just a little melancholy. It was just _so much_ and Rich felt his cheeks going hot. This was alarming. Really alarming. Rich was set on being a tough guy, and most of the time stuff like this didn't happen to him. But Jakes voice was just getting under his skin in the best way. Everything was warm and dizzy in a way he'd never felt before.

Rich was bi, he'd known for a while- but he'd never really had a major crush on a guy before. And the only person who knew was Michael Mell, of all people. That's when he realized what might be going on, because he didn't usually feel like this around Jake. Jake was his _best friend._ Yeah, he'd always felt good around him, and wanted Jake to like him, and thought about Jakes smile and his arms and... other stuff.

The more Jake sang, the more Rich thought, the more Rich realized that maybe there had _always_ been something different with Jake. And the more he kind of panicked. He glanced at Jake again, who was smiling softly as he sang, not like his usual massive grin. Rich felt like he was melting in his chair.

_Fuck. I can't believe this._

Jake finished the song with a final strum, leaning back on his bed and sighing. Rich was silent for a moment, unable to speak, and Jake shot a puzzled glance at him. He was expecting him to say something. Probably something shitty or weird.

"D-damn, Jakey D. You never told me you could sing!" He sputtered, and he resisted the urge to bury his face in his hands. Why did he have to stutter like that? Why did his lisp always come back when he was nervous? At least he was sort of saying what was really on his mind. Sort of.

Jake didn't seem to mind, though. He was kind of surprised at the compliment, a smile spreading across his face. Rich couldn't help but grin back despite his current state, trying not to focus on his revelations. He just needed to breath and stay here with Jake, like nothing was wrong. Nothing was wrong.

Rich was pulled out of his thoughts by noises from the room behind him. Giggles and whispers he wanted so desperately to just be in his head. They had to be.

They weren't.

Rich stood up fast, his stomach churning as he stumbled to the bathroom. Nope. He couldn't keep doing this. He was relieved to find the door unlocked, slamming it behind him as he entered. It was lit only by a nightlight. He caught a quick glance of himself in the mirror, and even with his vision slightly blurred, he could see the streak of bright red in his hair. A piece of it had escaped from its slicked back position and fallen over his forehead. Jake had helped him dye it last year. He also noticed sweat in his face. Or maybe tears. He couldn't tell.

Suddenly he was kneeling over the toilet, his tears hitting the water before something else did. Evidentially he hadn't realized how many beers he'd downed, because now they were sending the continents of his stomach back up. He heaved into the toilet a few times before leaning back and wiping his face on a towel by the sink. Tears were still dripping down his cheeks. Rich felt a wetness pooling around his knees and and glanced down to see his beer spilled across the tile floor. He didn't care.

He let out a shuddering breath and ran a hand through his hair, willing the tears that kept rolling down his face to just _stop_. This sucked. Vomiting sucked. Crying sucked. Jake sucked. No, he really didn't. _Liking_ Jake sucked. And not being able to hate Christine sucked too.

Light suddenly flooded the room and there was someone standing in the doorway, but Rich didn't have time to really register who it was because his stomach gave another sickening lurch. He was back over the toilet in an instant, his hands clutching the sides with white knuckles. His eyes were shut tight but he heard a light switch flip and someone cursing under his breath. Now there was a hand brushing his hair out of his face and mumbling from a voice he knew too well.

That was Jake's voice.

Rich heaved in final time before he leaned back and collapsed against the wall, burying his face in his hands. He couldn't bear to look up at Jake right now. He felt a towel by his knees as Jake cleaned the beer and he heard the toilet flush. Rich ground his face into his palms. He thought that maybe if he did it hard enough he could disappear. Or float away. But he didn't. He just got his hands wet.

Fuck. He didn't want Jake to see him like this. He didn't want anyone to see him like this. Jake hadn't seen him cry since _sixth grade_ (as far as Rich knew). He heard the faucet running and after a moment Jake was next to him, gently tugging his hands from his face to wipe it down with a wet towel. Rich still kept his eyes squeezed shut as if It meant Jake wouldn't see him. The wet cloth on his skin made him feel odd, it was almost nice. His eyes snapped open only when he felt Jake's hands at the hem of his muscle tank. Rich realized that it was covered in vomit. Jake pulled it over his head and dropped it in a pile with the towel across the room, wrinkling his nose at the stench. Rich looked down into his lap as he shivered a little. Being all bare felt weird. And his hot tears were now hitting his chest, reminding him that he was still crying. _Stupid. Stupid stupid stupid._ The light turned off again.

Suddenly, though, there was an arm around him. He was hyper aware of how his bare side was entirely pressed against Jake. He dared to glance up and saw him sitting like Rich was, both of their backs against the wall. Jake wasn't looking at him. He had his eyes closed and his brows knitted as his head fell back gently to rest on the wall.

"Rich, what’s going on, dude?" He asked softly, his eyes still closed. Rich felt a pang of _something_ deep in his chest. He didn't know what.

"Uh... I just.... I got drunk and threw up?" He mumbled awkwardly, his voice hoarse, shoving his hands into his pockets. Jake sighed, shaking his head. "No, no, I mean... Something's up with you. And I don't know what it is. It's like... You've been acting off for the last few months. And you don't tell anyone. Like... I don't know. I care about you, Rich. I know I don't say it but I do. And you can tell me things. I won't always understand, but I can try to." Jake said, turning to look Rich in eyes. "You're my best friend. I didn't even know you were this upset. Hell, I haven't seen you cry in years! Dude, it fucking hurts to see you like this." He muttered the last bit, looking away. All Rich could do for a moment was blink up at him and gulp hard.

_Dammit._

_Dammit dammit_.

Jake didn't know what he was asking about nor did he know the effect he was having. He didn't know that the reason Rich had been crying wasn't just because he hated vomiting, even if he did. It wasn't something small or something he could just _say_. Jake looked back down at him with kind eyes and all of the sudden he was crying hard again. He couldn't explain it. He couldn't answer. He could only bury his face in Jake's shoulder and sob, soon wrapping arms around the taller boy's torso. Jake was taken aback for a moment before he hesitantly wrapped his other arm around Rich, gaining confidence and tugging Rich into his chest tightly, rubbing his back as comfortingly as he could. Rich didn't even have it in him to be mortified anymore. He clutched desperately at the fabric of Jake's sweatshirt, relishing the warmth of his arms. It was really all he could do- the ache was too much. He fucking hated being this soft but right now Jake's arms just felt like the only real thing in the world.

He wasn't sure how long he'd been crying there when Christine came in. Light flooded the bathroom, and Rich jerked his head up in panic. He relaxed a little when he realized who it was, but flinched at the look on her face. Rich was sure he probably looked absolutely wrecked.

"Christine, could... Could you, uh.... Get my hoodie? The red one?" He Jake mumbled, his voice sounding shaky. Had _he_ been crying?

"Y-yeah... Is everything ok?" She asked tentatively, her words slightly slurred. "Yeah. Yeah, it’s fine." He said dismissively and she nodded, still looking doubtful. Jake obviously wanted her to leave, though, so she did, shutting the door gently behind her.

"I'm- I'm sorry." Rich said after a moment, his voice coming out as a croaky whimper. It doesn't sound like him. Jake looked down at him and blinks for a moment before he registered what Rich just said. "No- you- Don't be sorry. It's totally fine. I'm just- I'm really worried about you." He muttered. Rich looked up at him- he definitely had been crying. Seeing Jake cry made Rich's heart hurt and his stomach churn. This was his fault. He nodded at Jake understandingly, no longer trusting his voice.

"What's wrong, Rich? What's really wrong? I promise I won't get mad, whatever it is." He said, his arm tightening on Rich's bare shoulders. Rich looked down. He couldn't tell Jake the truth- that he was slowly and painfully falling for him. But he could do the next best and no less terrifying thing. It had been something he'd wanted to do anyway. He took a deep breath.

"I- I'm..." Rich cursed himself mentally. This hadn't gotten any easier to say, even if he was starting to get comfortable with it himself. It was even hard with Michael. Jake stared at him expectantly, openly, tear streaks still staining his cheeks. Rich had to shut his eyes.

"I'm... I'm bi, Jake."

Silence.

Rich held his breath and now he was acutely aware of how Jake's arm felt around him and how his shirt was hiked up just enough that their sides were touching. He kept focussing on that. he couldn't think about what he'd just said. He couldn't. Rich noticed that he was shaking.

"That's cool." Jake said after a moment, and Rich slowly opened his eyes.

_'That's cool.' I can work with that._

Jake wasn't looking at him- he was staring down at his shoes with an unreadable face. "So you're... okay with it?" Rich finally asked, his voice unsteady. It wasn't like he thought Jake would be upset, but he'd never been quite sure.

"Of course, dude. You're you, that's just another part of you I didn't know about. But now I do." He said, and he sounded awkward, but Rich knew it was sincere. His guts felt kind of warm and fuzzy, relieved, a little sick and panicked but happy to be accepted. Coming out always felt weird.

"Is that what's been making you all... weird for the last few months?" Jake asked hesitantly, finally turning to meet Rich's eyes. Those stupid eyes. His chest ached.

It took a moment. Rich didn't like to lie to Jake. But the truth was something he knew he'd probably take to the grave. No matter how much it wore at him.

"Kinda... Yeah." He muttered, and Jake surprised him by pulling him into a hug. Rich stiffened before melting into it as well, sighing. He felt a little guilty lying. Jake was just so _good._

"I'm sorry, man. I- I wish you didn't have to worry about anything... With that." Jake's voice was muffled as it trailed off. Rich nodded understandingly. What Jake really meant was homophobia, especially with the guys in their school. "But hey-" Jake pulled away, and Rich was embarrassed by how much he missed the contact. "If anyone gives you shit I'll beat their asses."

For the first time that night Rich smiled, his heart swelling with admiration for his best friend. Yeah, he had a crush on him. But he was also aware of how lucky he was to be just his friend. Jake smiled, too, but not his regular, giant doofy grin. It was soft and gentle with a hint of something Rich didn't recognize, like the one he sported while playing guitar.

"Thanks, J-"

_Knock Knock._

Rich couldn't help the fact that his smile faltered. He knew it was mean, but he really wished Christine was just... out of the picture, especially right now. Why did she have to be so sweet and likable? It was so fucking unfair.

She cracked open the door and peered in. "Can I- is it okay for me to come in?" She asked hesitantly, Jake's red hoodie clutched to her chest with one arm. Jake nodded and she stepped in slowly, like she was afraid of scaring Rich. This was why he hated crying in front of people. They would tiptoe around him and treat him like he was fragile after he did. Christine kneeled and grimaced at the lingering smell, sticking her arm out to hand Jake the hoodie before standing back up and glancing anxiously around once more.

"Jake, I'm... I'm gonna go home. Do you... Are you two gonna be okay?" She asked, and Rich felt another pang in his chest. Christine cared so much about both of them. It was no wonder Jake liked her. He couldn't look up. "Yeah, we'll be fine. Thanks." He said, taking the hoodie and tucking it under his arm. Christine leaned in and kissed his cheek. Another sharpness in Rich's chest. "Bye, babe."

After she shut the door, Jake turned to him, pulling his arm off of Rich's shoulder. It left him feeling cold there. And weird. Everything about this night was weird, but oddly enough, he didn't even feel awful.

"Here. Put this on. Do you wanna sleep at my place tonight?" He asked, softly. There was no need to be loud, but Jakes voice was ten times more glaringly lovable like this- gentle. It took Rich a moment to collect himself. This wasn't a big deal. He was just a guy, sleeping over at his best friend's house. They'd done this a million times before. Except Rich hadn't come out a million times before. But Jake was acting like things were normal, and like everything was okay. So Rich would too.

"That'd be great, dude. If my dad saw me like this, he would... He'd..." His voice trailed off. Jake knew. He'd seen it before. Jake nodded and smiled a little, and Rich was suddenly aware that he was still holding Jake's hoodie. He unraveled it from the ball it had been crumpled into and tugged it over his head, and _god_ it should not have felt so wonderful. It was a big hoodie, sleeves almost covering Rich's fingertips, and it was warm and cozy. The best (or maybe worst) part of all was how much it smelled like Jake.

Rich felt like he was floating as they left the bathroom, his mind hazy even as they passed the stairs and then the sofa and then the door. Rich didn't even feel fully awake until they were halfway through their drive home, sitting in complete silence except for the soft hum of an old Eagles song on the radio. Jake liked The Eagles. Rich let his eyes fall shut, breathing in and out slowly, trying to absorb everything and chill. It was just him and Jake- no Christine, no high school, nothing new and nothing unfamiliar. Jakes voice cut through the silence very suddenly when they'd stopped at a red light. There was nobody else on the road.

"Do you... Do you like any guys?"

Rich's breath caught in his throat at the question. It felt like a kick in the chest. That was definitely not what he'd been expecting to hear. How the fuck was he supposed to respond? Why did Jake keep asking these stupid questions, that, had he not been so oblivious, he'd surely never want the answer to? Rich tripped over his words for a moment before formulating what he hoped wouldn't sound like a lie.

"I mean- I- Not really, not, like, right now..."

He mumbled, and immediately regretted it because Jake, while oblivious to crushes, could sometimes read him like a book. Not in the way that Michael Mell could- that kid was scary observant. But Jake had been able to sense something off for the past few months, and he could sense something now. Rich could tell. But he didn't say anything. He only gripped the steering wheel tighter and looked away as they drove the rest of the way home. Rich's stomach twisted.

What the fuck was that supposed to mean?

  



	2. Michael wished he could hate Christine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael wished he could hate Christine. God. He really, really wanted to. When Jeremy had first started talking about her, it was subtle. Just little things. But it got to be bigger things until he was mentioning her almost every single day. Michael had never met her, but now he did hate her. He wasn't sure why he was jealous. It wasn't like she was going to be Jeremy's new best friend. But something was there, and it was something that made him feel small. So one day at lunch, after (another) ten minutes of Jeremy rambling about some hilarious thing she'd said, Michael had snapped.
> 
> (aka Michael's angsty pining. Very cliche, you've been warned.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey folks!! This is an absolute mess because I'm stressed and I haven't had time to go back and revise it. Also I'm sorry I've been taking so long to update, I have been feeling really shitty about my writing lately and I've gotten really bad at taking criticism the right way. I hope you enjoy though!!! <333

Michael wished he could hate Christine. God. He really, really wanted to. When Jeremy had first started talking about her, it was subtle. Just little things. But it got to be bigger things until he was mentioning her almost every single day. Michael had never met her, but now he _ did  _ hate her. He wasn't sure why he was jealous. It wasn't like she was going to be Jeremy's new best friend. But something was there, and it was something that made him feel small. So one day at lunch, after (another) ten minutes of Jeremy rambling about some hilarious thing she'd said, Michael had snapped. 

"Why don't you just admit you've got a crush on her?" 

Jeremy looked a little stunned by the tone, and then his face fell before his expression switched to anger, his cheeks going red. His hands balled into fists. 

"So- so what if I've got a crush on her? Is that the end of the world?" He asked, staring into his lap with a frown. "No, it's just- She's- she's all you ever talk about, and it feels like you're repl-" 

"God, has it ever occurred to you that I  _ might _ want other friends than you?" He'd shot back, his tone venomous. The words hit Michael like a knife right where it hurt, and even the regret in Jeremy's eyes after he said that couldn't help the wound. Michael had stood up and turned immediately to the bathroom, not even looking back when Jeremy called his name. It wouldn't be his first bathroom breakdown. He held a straight face until he was locked in a stall, and stayed as quiet as he could while he cried into his hoodie.  _ God _ did he feel pathetic, but he couldn't stop. Jeremy had only said one thing! Maybe it was his tone, maybe it was what he said, maybe it was how much Michael wished he didn't know Jeremy had a crush on her. It fucking hurt, whatever it was, and Michael avoided Jeremy until the day was over, ignoring the long and surprisingly heartfelt apology text he received on the way to his last class. He knew he was being dramatic but he didn't have it in him to care.

Just when he thought he'd make it away from school without having to face him, he reached his car to find Jeremy standing by it, scanning the parking lot anxiously. Before he could duck behind another car or scramble back inside, Jeremy spotted him and waved cautiously, like he was afraid to scare him away. Which he might have. Michael took a deep breath as he approached, preparing himself for whatever this talk was going to be. He didn't look up at Jeremy until he reached the car, digging in his pocket for his keys. He stood expectantly by the door, waiting for Jeremy's usual half assed "sorry dude" or "Let's just move on." The worst part was, Michael knew he'd forgive Jeremy in a heartbeat. No matter what. Because in the end, Jeremy was still Jeremy and Michael was still Michael, and they always had each other. They had to have each other- they didn't have anybody else.

_ Well, _ Michael though,  _ maybe Jeremy does now.  _

Instead, he was startled when his best friend tugged him over and suddenly his arms were wrapped around him tightly. Michael didn't hug back at first- he was confused. They were out in the open, where anyone could see them- Jeremy was never affectionate with him in front of anyone. 

"Dude. I'm- I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that and- and- ugh. I didn't mean it. I'm so stupid. You're my best friend. No one's ever gonna replace you." He mumbled in Michael's ear, his voice slightly muffled, and Michael was suddenly hugging him back, twice as tight. Jeremy was right- He was stupid. But he was also so stupidly lovable and and so stupidly sweet that Michael just  _ had _ to forgive him. 

And then they had pulled away, leaving Michael a little cold and snapping them both back to reality. People were staring. Michael opened his door and Jeremy shuffled over to the passenger side awkwardly, earning a chuckle from Michael. Jeremy's face lit up at that. Things were going to be normal. Things were normal.

"Mario Kart? You can be Yoshi this time." He'd said, hesitantly, and when Michael nodded he seemed to melt in relief. They drove off in a comfortable quiet, but Michaels stomach was still churning. That hug- the desperation, the warmth of Jeremy wrapped in his arms. It was making his body feel mushy and his brain all foggy, and no matter what he did, he couldn't stop thinking about it. He'd hugged Jeremy so many times, but there was something different now, and he shouldn't put his finger one it. He didn't look at Jeremy the whole way home.

When Michael finally did meet this 'Christine', he understood. It was painful to, but he did. Christine was a ray of sunshine- she was lovely to talk to, to listen to, and to look at. She was kind of crazy-hyper, but in an adorable way that only she could pull off. Even Chloe Valentine liked her, and Chloe Valentine didn't like almost anyone. He could see why Jeremy had a crush on her. Michael was sure he probably would have, too, but he'd never had a crush on a girl before. He pushed that to the back of his head. The only person that knew about that was Rich Goranski, and he planned to keep it that way for a while.

Either way, he knew he couldn't hate her now that he knew her. They even became friends, sitting together at lunch every once and awhile. Until she started dating Jake.

Jake Dillinger, of all people. It was like someone had flipped a switch. Christine and Jake getting together threw everything off balance. Jeremy was off- he wasn't himself for a while. He tried to act like it didn't affect him, like he didn't even notice when Christine was wearing the letterman jacket with 'Dillinger' across the back. But he was bad at pretending, and while he stopped  _ really _ talking about her, every once and a while he'd kind of... snap. He'd go on a long rant about Jake that would turn into a ramble about Christine that would swirl and build until he shut up in a bitter silence. Each time, Michael would sit and listen like he always did, offering words of comfort when he could, silence when that was the better option. Jeremy even cried, but only once- it was at three am in Michael's basement. 

He always felt little sick in his stomach when he did this, though. Partially because he was starting to realize maybe he wasn't jealous because Jeremy was getting more friends. He wasn't jealous about Jake or Rich, or even Brooke. Maybe it was just about Christine, specifically, how he felt about Christine that made him see green. The other reason he felt a little nauseous was that as much as it sucked to see Jeremy like this, it made Michael a little happy that he wouldn't be dating Christine anytime soon. He felt awfully guilty for it, but he couldn't repress the relief that maybe, just maybe, Jeremy was going to move on. It was a conflicting swim of emotions and Michael felt more confused than he had in years. 

As well as Jeremy faltering, Rich was off balance. Michael and Rich had an odd friendship that very few people were aware of, but they knew things about each other that they'd never tell another soul. Rich knew things about Michael that even Jeremy didn't know, and the same went for Rich with Jake. So right away Michael noticed the shift- Rich's smile didn't quite reach his eyes some days and every once and a while, when he thought nobody was watching, he'd stare at Jake with an expression so desperate that it stung even Michael. At first Michael was confused, but one day, he noticed a bitter glare at the floor and things just clicked. Rich. Jake. Rich liked Jake. Not just as best friends. And it scared him because it was way, way too familiar. 

And then things flipped, again. This time for the worse.

One moment, Michael had everything set in place, and the next Rich was telling Michael over the phone that Jake had broken up with Christine. And even though he could hear the suppressed grin of hope in Rich's voice, he felt his own heart sinking. Next thing he knew Jeremy was talking about her again, mentioning that she was single, and soon he was asking Michael for advice on how to take a girl on a date. Michael didn't know. every part of him wanted to stop his best friend as he stood with sweaty palms by her locker. But Michael was a good friend, and there was nothing wrong with Jeremy asking Christine out. Right? Except Michael couldn't pretend anymore. He knew why his blood felt cold as he watched Jeremy blush and stutter his was through his words, and why he had to look away when Christine kissed his cheek with a smile. His heart sank to his toes. So now they were a thing. And Rich had a chance with Jake and even Brooke had a secret admirer. 

And he was still just Michael.

That night, he didn't sleep over at Jeremy's like he usually did. Said he felt sick, which was almost true. Jeremy was too elated to notice that things were off. Of course he was happy- he had every right to be. He'd just gotten the balls to ask out his crush, and she'd said yes! Michael knew that. He knew all of that. But it didn't help when he was lying awake in his bed that night. None of the usual things helped. Blasting music just made his head hurt, and he didn't feel like smoking weed. Even playing video games was uninteresting, and calling Jeremy like he sometimes did when he got like this was completely out of the question. 

So Michael was left staring at his ceiling, hollow and completely alone with his thoughts. Completely alone with his his feelings. His feelings about Jeremy. 

He went back and forth with himself, like he'd done a million times before. Convincing himself that he didn't feel anything, that Jeremy was his best friend and nothing more. But then he'd remember that time they hugged in the parking lot, or that time he'd had to carry Jeremy home when he'd crashed his bike, or that time they'd snuck onto the roof to get high and whisper at two in the morning. Those countless moments. It fucking hurt, and the more he thought the further he wanted to sink into his mattress and disappear. Or not. Those moments were so warm and lovely and oozing with full-blown happiness. The memory of them was what hurt. 

He knew it was hopeless, indulgent, and dumb. But he let himself imagine it- what would it be like, if Jeremy- 

_ No. Stop. _

Christine. Jeremy was in a happy new relationship with Christine. God, it was so dumb. All of this was fucking stupid and hopeless and pathetic. Hating Christine would make this so much easier, it would be an explanation, a reason- or, rather, an excuse- for his feelings about Jeremy and her. 

_ I hate her. I hate her I hate her I hate her I hate her. _

He repeated it over and over in his head like a mantra, in hopes that it might stick. But it didn't, like he knew it wouldn't. Because he couldn't lie to himself. 

Michael didn't mean to slam his glasses down on his bedside table as hard as he did. He left them there and reached for the lamp switch, tugging it down just as aggressively. The sudden darkness only made him more aware of the pit in his stomach.

Michael pulled the covers over his face and begged for sleep to come.

It finally did, in a restless form, and his dreams were haunted by Jeremy.

  
  



	3. Jake wished he could love Christine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jake wished he could love Christine. Well, he did love her. Not in the way he wanted to, though. 
> 
> Not in the way she loved him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!! Back from my little summer hiatus!! Sorry this chapter is such a mess. I won’t be able to write as often because I’ve got a lot more work this year, but I’ll do my best. Also, I want y’all to know that I don’t want to use Christine as just a throwaway or a way for the plot to advance. She’s one of my favorite characters and she is obviously not the main character here, but her feeling and thoughts matter in this story. I’m thinking about writing an extra chapter just about how this mess affected her.

Jake wished he could love Christine. Well, he did love her. Not in the way he wanted to, though. Not in the way she loved him. He had definitely felt something strong for her at one point, but now that was faltering. Unfortunately, he hadn't realized this until five months after he'd asked her out, which left him in a shitty situation. In the beginning he'd pretended it wasn't there- that sinking, fading, gut feeling- the distraction- hoping maybe it would go away, and he could just wait it out. He couldn't. Every day it was becoming more and more evident to him that something was wrong. Falling out of this was much more painful than falling in. 

It wasn't just about losing his thing for Christine, though. There was this weird new _ other  _ thing going on with him, and while he couldn't quite pinpoint what it was, he had a suspicion that it had started the night Rich came out to him. 

The reasons that night changed things were not exactly a mystery- His friend came out to him, and ever since then he'd been thinking about it every five minutes. Most people can connect the dots. But for Jake, it wasn't just about Rich. It was the fact that anyone in his circle could be something other than straight. That maybe  _ he _ could be something other than straight. The fact that that was an option.

He wasn't ready to dwell on it. 

Either way, he knew now that he'd have to do something soon. He couldn't keep up this act for much longer- It wasn't fair to him, in a weird way it wasn't fair to Rich, and it  _ especially _ wasn't fair to Christine. God, Christine. She didn't deserve this. 

He felt horribly guilty for what he was going to have to do.

As if on cue, his phone buzzed on his bed. He'd been lying on his back, staring at the ceiling, until he glanced down at it. It vibrated again, this time twice. Jake sighed and sat up slowly, his knees cracking. How long had he been doing that? He'd been so lost in thought that he didn't even notice. 

The phone illuminated his face and he blinked at it's brightness. Two texts. One from Rich and one from Christine. ( And one snapchat from Jenna Rolan.)

He opened Rich's text first, and couldn't help but smile. It was a dorky picture of them as kids that he hadn't seen in ages. The photo was faded, but Jake could clearly make out Rich's braces and his own round glasses. He chuckled when he noticed the black eye Rich was sporting. He remembered that- he'd gotten it after he got into a fight with a boy two years above them over a kickball game. Rich had always been so fiercely competitive, and Jake had admired it. Rich never texted him stuff like that- not out of the blue. It made his chest tighten.

He quickly set the image as his home screen before opening Christine's text.

_ Hey, Jake. _

That was weird. She never called him Jake. Jakey, babe, and Dillinger when she was teasing him, but never just Jake. She was still typing. She had been for a while. His stomach dropped when it finally went through. He'd been expecting a long message, but what he ended up reading was somehow worse.

_ Can we talk after school tomorrow? _

Jake read the message over a few times, slowly releasing a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. Ok. So something was happening. Was she planning on breaking up with him? Oh man, she'd beat him to it. Christine was definitely going to break up with him. He huffed as he fell back onto the bed, leaving the message temporarily unanswered. What was he supposed to say? Yes, he guessed, but that felt like a blatant lie with all of the things currently running through his head. He thought that he had wanted Christine to do it instead of him, but now that it was happening, it honestly didn't feel any better. It sucked. Fuck. Everything about this sucked.

No. No it didn't. He needed to calm down, he was getting way ahead of himself. He was a chill guy. The chillest. He didn't overthink, and he definitely didn't overthink texts from his girlfriend He took a deep breath before texting back. 

_ Sure. _

It seemed chill enough. Like he wasn't plotting every plausible reason Christine could want to talk. Mostly scripting out all the ways she could break up with him. He groaned and ran his hand down his face, dropping his phone on the floor and rolling away from it. It was getting late.

He'd cross tomorrow's bridge when he got to it.

Famous last words. Jake arrived at school late the next morning with a slow growing knot in his stomach, pretending he'd forgotten all about it. As he stumbled out of his first class, Rich caught him off guard. 

"Jakey D! What's up, dude?" He said in his usual animated manner. As he approached, he did a once over, eyes scanning Jake from head to toe. "Are you... okay?" He asked in a much more serious tone, closing the distance between them. 

"Yeah. I'm- I'm good. Overslept." Jake supplied, hoping it was convincing enough. He'd never liked to drag Rich into his girl problems, and he especially didn't need him knowing about this one.

Rich raised his eyebrows at him, and for a moment Jake felt like his best friend could see right through him, but he only shrugged and responded with "If you say so." 

Jake inwardly sighed with relief. Rich's carefree smile calmed him down- it seemed to brighten the whole hallway. For a moment, Jake thought everything might just be fine. 

That moment was over fast. And so was that day, and in the blink of an eye Jake was being grabbed by the shoulder at his locker. He froze- it had to be Christine. He hadn't seen her all day. He didn't know what he was going to say. But here he was.

He turned around, and melted with relief. The face smiling back at him was a much more familiar one. "What's up, Rich?" He said, casually reaching out for their handshake. He didn't even have to look, it was like second nature. And Rich's calloused hands were a comfort. "Not much. I was thinking maybe we could go to your place today. My folks are kinda..." Rich lowered his voice just a little. Just enough for Jake to notice. "...They're kinda pissy right now. Might be best if I laid low for a while." Rich chuckled. He said it so casually, like it didn't bother him. And after so many years, he  _ had _ become pretty numb to it. Jake could tell it still ached, though. Jake could always tell.

This was perfect, though. This was the perfect way to slip out, avoid Christine, avoid everything- But no. He couldn't do that to her. He needed to put on his brave face. She might not even want to break up with him! 

"I'm supposed to meet Christine in a few minutes..." He confessed, watching Rich try to hide the way his face fell. He'd never been good at hiding things. Jake scrambled to explain himself. "... But, uh... I'll meet you at my house after. You know where the key is, you can go straight there if you want." Out of the corner of his eye he spotted a head of shiny black hair, and his heart-rate quickened, but the girl turned around and it wasn't Christine. He focused back at Rich, who was grinning warmly at him. "Thanks, bro. I owe you." 

Jake scoffed. "Rich, you're my best friend. You never owe me."

Jake said it thoughtlessly, but Rich's gaze lingered for a moment past normal. It was an indecipherable gaze, one Jake wasn't used to. And then the moment was over, and Rich was patting his arm and saying, "Alright, see ya, dude!"

Jake was left with a smile that faltered with adrenaline the moment he saw her across the hall. He plastered it back on, though. He needed to be chill. Being chill was his thing. Even if he thought his girlfriend wanted to break up with him. It didn't even make sense how worked up he was getting- he'd basically been planning to end things long before she'd texted him- but somehow this freaked him out. A lot. Like, a lot a lot. Maybe he was overreacting.

"Jakey!" Christine said in an upbeat manner, seeming to materialize in front of him. She was smiling. That had to be a good sign. Right? Girls were confusing.

"Hey. How was your day? Didn't see you at lunch." He replied, as smoothly as he could. He shut his locker and she grabbed his arm, leading him. To where, he wasn't sure. 

"Eh. Good I guess. Kinda weird. Now that the play is done, I dunno what to do with myself. "

He nodded in understanding, only half listening. The casualness of all this had calmed him down some. Christine led him to a bench behind the school, and Jake was hit with a wave of nostalgia. They'd sat there numerous times, talking, watching videos on Jake's phone. It was actually where he'd first asked her out. Jake was feeling uneasy again.

They sat down, side by side. Christine was holding his hand. What? His heart rate was back up again because he had  _ no clue _ where this was going. Maybe she was trying to let him down gently? Was she going to tell him she was pregnant or something? But they hadn't even-

"So. I didn't just want to hang out after school, as much as I love doing that." She started, her voice charged with excitement. 

"I wanted to ask you something."

Jake blinked at her for a moment. "Uh... Yeah. Go ahead." He muttered, just a beat too late. 

She didn't notice.

"Do you want to go to prom together?" She blurted, her cheeks going a little pink.

Jake's stomach dropped. 

This was worse. Somehow, this was way worse. 

"I'm sure the answer is yes, but since you haven't gotten around to asking me yet I thought I'd ask you. I don't know why the guy usually asks the girl, I think that gender roles are- Well, I'm not sure I even have to ask if we're already dating...." She rambled on, but Jake didn't process any more than that. How was he supposed to do this now? 

He couldn't say yes.

She was suddenly quiet. 

"Jake? You want to, right?" 

The atmosphere flipped in an instant. Even as she tried to keep her voice cheery, Jake could hear it faltering. He didn't say anything- could hardly glance up at her, and when he did, he had to look down fast. Looking at her just made it worse- even though he knew he owed it to her. He could at least look her in the eyes while he did this. Shit. It had been so much easier with Chloe. But this wasn’t Chloe.

Christine let go of his hand. 

"Jake. Do you- do you not want to go to prom with me?" She asked, her voice now laced with confusion. And hurt. She could probably tell where this was going. 

Jake opened his mouth, but no words came. What was he supposed to say? Christine was expecting  _ something.  _ He dropped his face into his hands. 

"I'm- I'm really sorry, Christine-"

He looked at her again, and the confusion was gone. She just looked hurt.

Fuck. He needed to get this over with, and fast.

"I can't go to prom with you. Or- I don't think I can keep dating you, I'm sorry, I just- It's- I think-"

She cut him off, her voice shaky but sharp. 

"So- so you're breaking up with me."

He looked up again, and was met with a pained stare. He couldn't speak.

"Jake? Please say something." 

He swallowed hard, and then nodded, defeated.

The silence between them made the humid breeze stand still. Jake felt like it was closing in on him. When he looked up again, he expected Christine to be crying, but she wasn't. She wasn't even staring at him any more. She was sort of chuckling, actually. It was cold and melancholy, but not bitter. Christine could never be bitter. 

"Y'know, I knew this was coming." She mumbled, sounding tired, looking at him sympathetically. Jake furrowed his brows. He hadn't told anyone. 

"You- you did?" He all but croaked.

It was her turn to nod. 

"I could tell. Something changed. Doesn't mean it feels any better, though. Gosh. Just like that. Boom. It's over. Five months down the drain."

She paused for a moment, looking down.

"This sucks."

Jake wanted to agree, to say  _ Yeah, it does, _ but he decided it wasn't his place right now. He'd just broken up with her. He wasn't allowed to say it hurt. But it did.

"It's about Rich, isn't it? Not me?" She asked, suddenly. The emotion she'd been hiding before was beginning to leak through. A raindrop hit Jake's nose, because of course it was going to fucking rain right now.

_ No, no way,  _ He started to say, but nothing came out. He was silent again. Now he really couldn't look at her, his chest rising and falling a little faster. He couldn't lie to her. He could lie to himself but not to her. 

She sighed beside him as the rain picked up, letting it hit her face. Jake looked up one last time to see it mix with the tears welling in her eyes.

"Well, I guess I'll find another date to prom, then." She choked, her voice cracking.

"See you later, Jake."

Ouch.

Jake buried his face as deep as he could into his hands, digging his palms into the his cheeks. He didn't have to look up to know she was gone.

Yeah, he wasn't in love with Christine anymore. But he had been. And he still liked her a lot, platonically. Why couldn't she have done anything else? He almost wish she'd fought back, like Chloe did, shouted at him. Or asked him to stay. Maybe slapped him. But no, Christine wasn't like that. She was too accepting and understanding and sweet. She cared so much that she was willing to just walk away if he wanted her to. Even with no explanation and a half-assed apology.

The rain was pounding now, big drops hitting the back of Jake's head and running down his arms- he wasn't even cold, but he had goosebumps. His shirt was going to be soaked if he didn't move soon. He didn't really care. It was done. It was over. He was ashamed of how relieved he felt. But it was done. 

He suddenly stood, unable to sit on that stupid bench any longer. He looked around, but nobody was there. There were no cars left in the student parking lot either. (He'd almost forgotten that his parents took his car for their little 'road trip' that had started a few weeks back. He hadn't heard from them since. Another fresh wound.) He didn't bother wiping the rain off his face.

Looked like he'd be walking home, then. Home to Rich. 

Jake's house wasn't far- maybe a ten minute walk- but it would give him time to think about what had just happened. Which he hated. He wanted to do anything  _ but _ think about what had just happened. So, he ran. Ran until his chest was burning and his legs were aching. Ran until he was soaked to the bone, standing with labored breath outside of his front door. He realized, in all the fray of today, he'd left his backpack in his locker at school. Which meant no house keys. But Rich was there. He rang the doorbell- heard some shuffling upstairs, and then footsteps, and then the handle turned and there Rich was, in all his glory. Smiling. His smile dropped when he saw the state that Jake was in- dripping all over and absolutely spent.

Christine's words echoed in his head.  _ It's about Rich, isn't it? _

Yeah. It is.

"Jake? What the fuck? You're soaked. Get in here." He exclaimed, tugging a dazed and winded Jake through the doorway and shutting it behind him.

He turned to get a towel as soon as they stepped in inside, but Jake grabbed his wrist, stopping him. He didn't know why. Rich turned to him, obviously concerned, and Jake felt like a puddle on the floor. He was neck deep in some weird shit- parents gone, questioning his sexuality, breaking up with his girlfriend, his possibly changing feelings about a certain somebody.... He needed a moment. He needed his best friend. But this wasn't something he could just _ talk about _ . He could feel his heart pounding in his ears. Whether that was from the run or from something else, he didn't know.

Rich's brows were furrowed- he wore an increasingly worried expression. 

"Are- are you okay?" He asked, quietly, searching Jake's face for something. Jake didn't answer. He didn't know. Instead, he acted on his needs, tugging Rich towards him by the wrist he was still holding and then into his chest for a tight hug. 

Rich made a noise of surprise and tensed a little, but relaxed a moment later, wrapping his arms around Jake's torso like he had at that party. This whole thing was a lot like the party- but now the desperation was sort of the other way around. Maybe a lot of things were the other way around.

Rich didn't protest- he let Jake lean into him even though he was much too tall. Jake felt all the pain of the day leaving him, if only for just a moment. He buried his face in Rich'a hair- which seemed to surprise him again, but he didn't shove him off, despite how unusual this was for Jake. 

"Are you okay?" He repeated, His voice still laced with concern. No answer.

Instead, Jake pulled away rather suddenly. What was he doing? He couldn't act like this. He had no right to, especially not after today.

"Jake. Seriously. What's up with you?" Rich's voice broke a little, and Jake's gut did another summersault. Rich's hands were on his shoulders, and he was staring at him hard. They never acted this serious.

Jake studied Rich's face- it was so familiar, but he almost hadn't realized how much it had changed since they were younger. Rich had freckles now. And that streak of red in his hair was just a little faded, but Jake had always thought it looked good that way. Christine popped into his head again-  _ it's about Rich _ . 

Yes it fucking is. 

Jake had an idea. A crazy, dumbass, terrifying, but simple idea. He didn't think before he spoke because he knew he'd talk himself out of it if he did. 

"Rich? Do you... Do you want to go to prom with me?" He blurted, his heart pounding in his ears again. 

Rich blinked at him. 

"What?"

He blinked again, and Jake held his breath. Rich made a little noise of confusion before he spoke.

"As... As friends? What about Chr-"

"I broke up with Christine." Jake cut him off, looking down.  It still felt weird to say that, like he was poking at a new cut.  He felt Rich's grip on his shoulders loosen a little. His hands were warm.

"And not just as friends." Jake added in mumble, swallowing hard. He needed to make himself look up. He hadn't done it with Christine, but he could at least do it now.

Rich's eyes were wide with disbelief at both things he'd just heard. He opened his mouth and Jake tried to prepare himself for whatever might come next. Shut his mouth again before actually trying to speak.

"You broke- and- But- but you're thtraight." He stuttered, his cheeks going pink- his lisp was mostly gone, but it acted up sometimes when he got emotional. Like right now. Jake shook his head slightly. The boy's eyebrows shot up, his eyes widening even more.

"...You're not?" He blinked up at Jake again, who rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. His heart was beating out of his ribs. Today was fucking wild. He'd really just asked that, which meant he might’ve just lost his best friend. The silence in the room was deafening- they stood like that for the longest minute of Jake's life, and he was very aware of the feeling of Rich's hands still on his arms. He held his breath.

After flying through just about every emotion, Rich's face finally settled on an unreadable expression. He was staring, hard, like he was trying to figure out if this was real.

"I was lying." He mumbled, glancing up at Jake's eyes and then down.

Jake furrowed his brows, finally exhaling. But- wait. What? That didn't answer the question. "I- What?" He asked, trying to keep his voice steady. He still couldn't decipher his best friend's face.

"Do you remember, after the party? Y'know-  _ that party- _ " He looked up at Jake, who nodded slowly in response. He remembered. He couldn't tell where this was going, though.

"-We were in your car driving back to your place. I was- Uh, I was wearing your hoodie."

Jake almost smiled at that. He remembered. It had been way too big for him.

"You asked if there were any guys I liked at the time. I said I didn't, but I was lying." Rich repeated, running a hand through his hair- a nervous habit. Jake's eyes widened. Oh. Rich coughed a little, splotches of red blooming in his cheeks.

"I was lying-" He explained quietly, "-Because I liked you. I still like you."

Jake didn't understand. Rich... Rich had just said that he liked Jake. That he  _ like-liked _ Jake. Rich looked back at him, moving closer.

"So if this is some sort of joke, Dillinger, you better cut it out right fucking now." Rich's voice went up an octave, and cracked the way it hadn't since they were freshman. His face was a raw mix of conflicting feelings- anger, insecurity, and- Jake gulped- a flicker of desperate hope. He also noticed the way Rich was clenching and unclenching his fists. It was endearingly familiar. At that moment, everything finally added up in Jake's mind. Rich. Rich liked  _ him _ . Holy shit. And Jake was, at this point, pretty sure he liked him too.

In one fluid motion, Jake pulled Rich into his arms and lifted him off the ground in a hug, spinning him around. Rich let out a shout of surprise that melted into a laugh, all the tension leaving his body. The laughter made Jake's face flush, and he thought maybe whatever this was was actually better than being best friends. Somehow. 

After spinning twice, Jake stopped them, but didn't put Rich down just yet. Rich tried to squirm out of his grasp, but Jake wouldn't budge until he got what he wanted.

"So. Is that a yes?"

Rich blinked at him for a moment, nearly crossing his eyes because of how close they were, and realization washed over his face after a second. 

"Uh.. Yeah?" He answered, looking up sheepishly at Jake, who finally let go, throwing his fist in the air and whooping the way he did when he won a football game. He was so excited that he didn't see the way Rich was beaming at him. 

This was the start of something great.

 

(They decided to take things slow- slower than either of them usually would, because one: the breakup with Christine was still fresh and 2: neither of them had had anything with a guy before. But prom was coming up soon, and they were both more eager than they let on.)

 


	4. Jeremy wished he could love Christine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeremy wished he could love Christine. He thought he did- long before they actually went out for the first time, he thought he was in love with her. He told himself that. He told Michael that. He believed it. Everything else was changing- but Christine was a constant. Even when she was dating Jake, Jeremy's crush- well, almost more than a crush, if that was possible- was always there, even when he didn't want it to be. Except- despite all the heartache it caused, all the little arguments with Michael and the loneliness- Jeremy never did try to push it down. It came naturally, the way crushes do. The way both of his crushes did. But that wasn't until later.

Jeremy wished he could love Christine. He thought he did- long before they actually went out for the first time, he thought he was in love with her. He told himself that. He told Michael that. He believed it. Everything else was changing- but Christine was a constant. Even when she was dating Jake, Jeremy's crush- well, almost more than a crush, if that was possible- was always there, even when he didn't want it to be. Except- despite all the heartache it caused, all the little arguments with Michael and the loneliness- Jeremy never did try to push it down. It came naturally, the way crushes do. The way both of his crushes did. But that wasn't until later. 

Well, not much later, because prom was in two weeks. And he'd just asked out Christine.

He still couldn't believe she'd said yes- especially so soon after her breakup with Jake.

They'd gone on three dates so far- lunch and a movie, a picnic, coffee- and despite long panicking phone calls with Michael, they all went well. Incredibly well, actually. 

You'd think he'd be happy. And he was. He was so happy.

Buf Christine was content.

Just... cool. Like it wasn't a big deal to her. But everything was a big deal for Christine, so he couldn't figure out why it didn't feel like she was putting her whole heart into this, the way he'd always imagined. He'd assumed, from all the teenage love stories he'd been fed throughout his life, that it was supposed to be passionate and terrifying and heart-pounding-out-of-your-chest make out sessions. But maybe it wasn't like that. Still, he didn't put much thought to it. He had other things to stress about. Like- how the hell was he supposed to ask her to prom? He'd never understood why couples weren't automatically going to prom together if they were dating, but that's the way that it was, so that's what Jeremy would do. 

That's how he ended up hunched over a poster board on his basement floor, covered in green glitter, sighing in defeat. Michael chuckled quietly from behind him, and Jeremy rolled his eyes, unable to suppress a little smile. That dumbass chuckle was kind of infectious. He'd never tell Michael that, though. 

Jeremy sat back on his knees, studying the sign in front of him. Actually, it didn't look half bad. 

It was a black poster board that read, "It would be  _ Wicked _ if you would go to prom with me!" with 'Wicked' written in green glitter. (Wicked as in the musical- it was Christine's favorite.) Ok, yeah- the glitter was pretty sloppy, he'd admit that. But it was the best he could do. And he was sure that Christine wouldn't mind. 

"Not too shabby, Casanova." Michael commented, peering down over Jeremy's shoulder. Jeremy smiled and stood, groaning a second later at the shower of glitter falling from him. "I'm never getting rid of this." He grumbled, brushing his hands off on his shorts. Michael just laughed that stupid laugh again. 

Jeremy was wiping his hands on his shorts again a few weeks later, but this time it wasn't green glitter, it was sweat, and Michael wasn't laughing at him. He was giving him a pep talk, but Jeremy wasn't really listening. He felt stupid- he wasn't even asking in front of anyone other than Christine. He knew she should say yes. Why was he so freaked out? Well, he was always freaked out about something. But this was another level. 

".... Okay?" Michael finished, looking Jeremy in the eyes. He nodded absently, and Michael sighed, rolling his eyes. "You didn't listen to any of that, did you?" He muttered, and Jeremy didn't respond. It didn't matter, the bell was about to ring and Christine would be out any second. He could feel the poster-board corner of the sign rolled up under his arm poking him. It was all he could focus on. That and Michael's familiar smell, and the way his face softened when Jeremy didn't respond. "You've got this, okay?" He mumbled. His hand was on Jeremy's shoulder.

Jeremy didn't think he did. And he was pretty much right.

Christine had smiled when she saw him, a tired smile, her pace slowing as she watched him pull out the sign. She stopped to read it, and suddenly her expression faltered. The smile was gone.

Jeremy's heart dropped to his toes.

"Oh- Jeremy..." She said quietly, almost sadly. His throat went a little dry. He didn't understand. Couldn't. This was his girlfriend. Sort of. Right? 

Jeremy stared silently. She turned away, running a hand through her hair, mumbling quietly, maybe to herself. After a moment she turned back, but she didn't look him in the eyes. She wrung her hands as she spoke. "Listen, I... I'm really, really sorry, I thought this would fix things and I thought I'd be ready for this, I really thought this was what I wanted... But..." Jeremy focused on the clouds. The sun was hitting them very nicely. His eyes burned a little, and he blinked hard.

"I can't fake this anymore."

Ouch.

"I- I've been trying so hard to get over Jake. And- And I really thought that I did, I thought that dating you would help- that prom with you would make me forget-" 

So he was just a rebound. That stung. 

"-I mean, I like you a lot, Jeremy... Just, now's not a good time. For any of this. And it's really not fair to you, believe me, I know... But..." Her voice trailed off.

That was true. This was really,  _ really _ unfair. Jeremy swallowed, finally lowering his eyes to meet Christine's. He felt kind of numb, but also like he might cry. Christine had her dress in fistfuls, and he could tell she might cry too. Ok. This felt like shit. He didn't know what to say. This was the girl he'd idolized and dreamed about since... forever. He'd finally had his chance, finally had someone like him back, only to find it wasn't real. No wonder he'd felt like something was off. He was a rebound. Destined to be stuck in his loop of pathetic unrequited crushes for eternity. Maybe he was overreacting, but he couldn't stop. His confidence had broken like a dam in an instant and now the thoughts were flooding him. He was in too deep already.

Christine was looking at him expectantly, waiting for a response. Jeremy didn't give her one. Logically, deep down, he knew this sucked for her too, and he shouldn't be making this any harder for her. But on the surface he was bitter and crushed and he couldn't- 

He just didn't really give a shit about logic right now.

"Jeremy?" She asked, her voice unsure. Jeremy held out the sign. "Here. You can keep this." He mumbled, his voice stoic, and she hesitated. Jeremy didn't look at her face. High school breakups, especially of short lived relationships, weren't supposed to hurt this much. She reached out and took it.

He turned away and didn't look back, though he was almost sure he heard Christine call his name faintly from behind him. He wished it would rain.

The radio was blasting in Michael's car when Jeremy got in the passenger side like he always did. Jeremy was glad. He didn't want to talk. Michael must have realized this right away, because he didn't say a word as they pulled out, only glancing over when Jeremy turned the music up just a little more. Just enough to feel the bass in his fingers as they rested on the door. If Michael was surprised, he wasn't showing it. 

They pulled in to Michael's driveway, and Jeremy was reluctant to get out of the car. He didn't want the music to stop. Wanted it carved into his brain, to fill up all the empty spaces. Michael opened his door for him, though, and Jeremy didn't stall anymore. Followed him inside, still silent, and then down to his basement. The familiar feeling of the worn-down bean bag below him wasn't comforting today. Michael reached for his remote. Jeremy didn't.

"Not in the mood for this?" Michael asked. He didn't do it all gently, the way anyone else would have, didn't treat him like he was a kicked puppy. Jeremy was grateful.

"No. Maybe." Jeremy shrugged, and then sighed, dragging a hand down his face. "I don't fucking know." He picked at a loose thread on the bean bag, and he could feel Michael's stare that lingered just a moment too long. Still, Michael didn't push anything. He knew waiting until Jeremy was ready would be better. God dammit, Michael was just so  _ good _ .

Fucking Michael. There was something about him that made everything better. 

It was another hour before Jeremy acknowledged what had happened, briefly, and then another few of Michael coaxing him out of his pit of self-inflicted numbness. When Jeremy finally broke, they were lying on Michael's bed, half asleep, Jeremy's legs draped over Michael's. His voice cracked as he mumbled the story, all the shitty details about everything and how much it hurt. It felt  _ so _ pathetic to cry, but he did. Michael listened patiently, not looking away uncomfortably when Jeremy cried the way anyone else would have. When he finally finished, breathing shakily, Michael pulled him into a tight hug, and didn't even flinch when Jeremy collapsed into him a little, face buried in his shoulder. Didn't whisper "everything would be okay" or some shit, the way Christine would have. Ironic. He needed to quit thinking about Christine, he knew that. But also, now that he was looking back, he was realizing things weren't really how he'd seen them. Everything sort of made sense, about her faking it. Except at the same time nothing made sense. Michael was the only thing that made sense, and as much as he hated being all bared out and open, Michael made it feel okay. Less like he was the embodiment of an open wound and more like something else, though he wasn’t sure what. Not so raw and shitty. God, he couldn't even think. He didn't want to, and decided he didn't have to. He focused on the arms and legs all tangled around him, and nothing else. Filled his lungs with Michael

It was at least half an hour later before either of them spoke. Michael broke the silence first.

"Jeremy?"

Jeremy gave a little grunt in response, not opening his eyes.

"You can say no, but... Wanna go to prom together? Just as friends... Obviously...I know you were planning to skip, but it's  _ prom _ . We can still have fun, y'know?"

Jeremy slowly opened his eyes. Michael didn't look at him while he was speaking, and his voice sounded a little strange- the only time he'd sounded unsure all day. His body tensed a little around Jeremy, who was quiet for a moment. He thought about Christine, and what people at school might say, and then very briefly about Michael in a suit (Something he hadn't seen in a long time.) He knew his answer. Almost too fast. But it felt weird to say it.

"Too soon?" Michael asked, almost gingerly, but not in the annoying way. Michael was being ginger with his own feelings, not Jeremy's. Something about that struck deep.

"No- I- Yeah. Let's do it. It'll be..." Jeremy tried to search for a word. Maybe not fun, but... "It'll be good. And we don't even have to stay or anything, but at least we'll go together. I..." Jeremy rambled to fill the awkwardness, but eventually tapered off. "Yes." He said softly, finally.

Michael smiled sort of secretively at that, and Jeremy felt something he'd never felt before. 

-

That thing he'd never felt before wasn't actually new. It was new with Michael, though.

Jeremy wasn't sure how he had  _ actually _ expected prom night to go all those times he'd imagined it. He’d imagined it with Christine, and now that was out of the window. The image of her popping into his head caused Jeremy to tug his tie a little tighter than he’d meant to. 

It had been two weeks since they'd broken up (though arguably they weren't even dating in the first place). Still, the feeling lingered. Michael helped, though. Well, he usually helped, but tonight Jeremy felt alone in his head. It wasn't Michaels fault, though. Not  _ really _ .

See, the thing was, prom with Michael… didn't seem stupid. Like, in the Christine way. It sounded so weird that way, but he had always had this notion in his gut about himself and suddenly Michael was just... 

None of it made sense. 

To put it simply, though, his Christine feelings had been replaced by Michael feelings, something he was very unfamiliar with and frankly terrified of. He knew it wasn't just a revelation he could sweep under the rug, but he would have to for now. Because Michael would be ringing his doorbell (or maybe just walking in, He practically lived there) in five minutes and he hadn't even brushed his hair yet. He avoided the mirror as he went to grab his hairbrush. Jeremy had always believed he looked stupid in suits, and he also knew his face was probably flushed, the way it always got when he was nervous. And god, he was so nervous. So nervous he dropped his hairbrush with a start when he heard the doorbell ring from downstairs. 

"Jeremy!" His dad shouted up the stairs, "Michael's he-"

"Yeah, Dad, I noticed!" Jeremy shouted back, cutting him off. Ok, he hadn't meant to say that so harshly, but he was  _ really  _ agitated right now. He finally gave up, tossing his brush on the bed, and headed down the stairs. His dad was standing in the doorway, and he could hear Michael's voice. He had expected to feel some sort of jolt at the sound of it, but it was just Michael. He knew that voice almost better than his own. (Somehow, the familiarity was still a little dizzying.) Jeremy took a deep breath, jumping the last two steps like he always did, making his presence known. His dad stepped to the side, revealing a suit-clad Michael in the doorway- and okay, yeah, maybe the whole "sweeping it under the carpet thing" just flew out the window. 

Michael looked  _ so _ good. He always had, and now that Jeremy knew why he'd noticed it so often, it was suddenly unbearable. But Michael looked better than his regular good. He'd finally grown into that suit, and he did his hair differently, so that a stray piece fell over his forehead. He looked almost looked  _ cool _ , which was kind of scary, but the dumb pac-man tie gave him away. Still a nerd. Jeremy cracked a smile.

"Nice tie, Michael." He teased, and Michael just rolled his eyes, gesturing for him to head out to the car. Maybe things could be normal. "Have fun, and good luck with the ladies tonight!" Mr. Heere called from behind them, and Jeremy's face flushed again. Ladies, huh. He was going to have to figure his feelings out about ladies. and boys. Fuck.

Michael was blasting some old classic rock song in his car, though, and that (plus their usual banter) managed to drown out Jeremy's thoughts, if only for the short ride. They arrived, and actually, things were okay. As soon as they'd walked through the doors, Jeremy had nearly laughed at how cliche everything about this night was, right down to the boy already spiking the punch. Something about it was comforting, though, and he decided tonight could be normal. It  _ would _ be normal, because Michael was normal almost everything was normal. Right?

God was he wrong.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Hey!!! I really hope you enjoy this!! I'll probably be a little slow updating bcus finals and school stuff.  
> xxxx


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